


lust is in cages till storm breaks loose

by Thrayonlosa



Category: Rock of Ages (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Riding, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrayonlosa/pseuds/Thrayonlosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely it’s not supposed to be like this, the first time? Then again, the first time for most people is not with Stacee Fucking Jaxx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lust is in cages till storm breaks loose

**Author's Note:**

> Um. This is, um - really dirty. *hides* And that's saying something, for me. Anyway. No excuse for this. Wrote it back in the summer just after the movie came out for pure self-indulgence. Thought I should get off my arse and post it finally. Um. Enjoy? Title taken from Rock You Like A Hurricane by The Scorpions.

Sherrie’s hands are pulling at Drew’s shirt. Small, pretty, delicate hands; they skim over his stomach and chest. Her eyes are outlined in kohl and she meets his gaze coyly as she lowers her perfect lips to his chest and kisses him there. She’s kneeling between his legs – short skirt, her Bourbon Room shirt balled next to her and her tanned perky tits pushed together by a white, lacy brassiere. Drew knows what’s coming. This isn’t the first time they’ve fooled around, but tonight it’s going to different. Stacee Jaxx is playing tonight. Sherrie had whispered to him in between serving bottles of Bud and fancy cocktails with things in them to various colourful patrons. With a shaking voice, she’d whispered in Drew’s ear what she wanted to do to him and he’d grinned at her through dark eyes. Then he’d swatted her with a bar towel and mouthed, “Later,” Now it is later, they can hear Stacee’s voice groaning ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’, and Sherrie’s dragging her tongue across his nipple and her breasts are heaving. He knows she wants him to reach around and unclip her bra, touch her the way she’s touching him. They’re best friends, so in tune with each other and he knows that, without her having to say a word. She’s beautiful, and he’s probably never been closer to anyone in his life. They’re going to make love while Stacee Jaxx plays out there on the stage. This is one of his rites of passage, potentially one of the most memorable moments of his life.

And Drew feels nothing.

Literally nothing. If Sherrie were to reach between his legs right now, she’d have one hell of a shock to discover he’s not even slightly hard. It’s not drink – he hasn’t had any tonight. And it’s not nerves, although he _is_ , appreciably, apprehensive about this whole thing for no other reason than the one where he’s never gone all the way with anyone. He just feels nothing but a vague fondness – affection, for Sherrie. She’s so adorable, and he loves her, and it’s not as if he doesn’t want her to touch him. It just doesn’t light a fire in his loins the way he’d thought it might when he first met her.

Ah, shit – there it is. Sherrie’s lovely hand, cupping his flaccid cock, and it’s entirely obvious how hard he isn’t through his ridiculously tight jeans. 

“What’s wrong?” She’s looking up at him with wide, questioning eyes. Drew shrugs and offers her an awkward half-smile.

“Nothing, baby,” he says, knowing how trite it sounds. “I guess I just – ” he sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want my mouth?” she asks, eager, unzipping his pants with more than a little difficulty. That should get him hard, he knows it – for god’s sake, it’s the prospect of a gorgeous woman sucking his cock. It doesn’t. Makes it worse, if anything. Drew blushes painfully as she releases him (he’s going commando, there’s no other way in these pants) and looks, dismayed, at his crotch.

“Don’t,” he whispers, humiliated beyond belief – how did this turn so painful, so quickly? Less than a minute ago he was content to have her touch him without feeling anything, because he loves her. And now he’s scared and embarrassed and pissed off and wants to disappear.

“Why?” Sherrie says, an unhappy whine evident in her voice. Drew grits his teeth, pushes her hands away from his dick and zips himself back inside. 

“Maybe I had too much whiskey.” he says softly, but the excuse sounds lame even to his ears. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

Sherrie is reaching for her shirt, pulling it back over her breasts too hard and too fast. She’s hurt – of course she is, Drew can see it, hear it in her voice. For the first time, he has no idea what to say to make her feel better. He loves her – he does – but it seems his body doesn’t want her and there’s nothing he can possibly do about it. He wants to curl into a ball on the couch and become invisible. He tries another attempt at a smile. Sherrie looks at him like he’s kicked a puppy and retreats from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Drew gets up, scuffing his feet as he walks to the drinks trolley Dennis has set out for when Stacee Jaxx and Arsenal finish their set. There are four bottles of Jack Daniels in a neat row, two glasses – why two? Maybe in case Stacee smashes one – he’s prone to such shenanigans, after all. Maybe for a groupie – but then, shouldn't there be a whole host of glasses? An ice bucket. Drew shouldn’t be helping himself. But Jaxx is probably too drunk already to notice what had been on the tray before and what will be there when he comes offstage. So Drew shrugs, fixes himself a large (very large) Jack Daniels on the rocks and sits back down on the couch, carefully positioning himself away from the spot in which he’d been sitting before with Sherrie crouched on the floor between his knees. The bourbon is delicious – it burns Drew all the way from his throat to his stomach. It explodes with warmth inside him, making his fingers and toes tingle and his temples thrum. He drains the small glass, then gets up, a tiny bit unsteady, to make himself another.

After three more large tumblers, Drew takes the bottle back to the couch and slouches, sucking at the neck. It isn’t as nice at room temperature as it is on the rocks, but at this point he doesn’t care. He’s floating, and it doesn’t matter that his limbs are heavy and the room swims before his eyes – he can do fucking anything. He is a god. And maybe this is why Stacee Jaxx drinks so much of this stuff, because it makes you feel so fucking awesome, makes you feel like you can fly and save the world and make music that everyone will cream themselves over and be the best. Like Stacee, yeah, like Stacee Jaxx.

Who has entered the room, unbeknownst to Drew, and watched him closely for several minutes. Watched him swig from the bottle of whiskey, watched his throat convulse as he swallowed. Watched him lounging on the scruffy couch, knees falling open, bare feet rubbing against the floorboards. Heard him humming to himself, the compulsive vocal doodling of any great guitarist in the making.

“Well, hey,” Stacee drawls, walking slowly into Drew’s fuzzy vision and pouring himself his own glass of whiskey. He pours an approximate quarter of an inch into the glass, adds two cubes of ice. Holds the glass up to the light. Shrugs, smiles, puts the glass down and brings the rest of the bottle to sit beside Drew on the couch. Drew notices that Stacee mimicks his posture – slouched, legs spread, back bent, his ass barely touching the couch cushion.

“Did anyone tell you you could drink my fucking Jack?” says Stacee Jaxx, not unkindly, turning his head to regard Drew. Drew feels that blush again, humiliation seeping in red across his cheeks, and looks guiltily at the half-full bottle in his hand.

“I’m s—” he begins, before Stacee cuts him off with a dirty chuckle.

“No, just drink it,” he says, taking a shockingly large swig from his own bottle. “There’s a special place in hell for people who waste bourbon.”

“I’m drunk,” Drew says unnecessarily, but there doesn’t seem to be much else he can say to Stacee Jaxx. Except, his mouth is making words without his brain giving it permission first. He’s laughing and turning his body to face Stacee’s and saying – and saying,

“My girlfriend fugged off. She’s gonna hate me, because she wanted to blow me and I didn’t – ”

Stacee Jaxx’s face is suddenly alight with interest. Seriously, it looks like he’s glowing or something, it’s amazing, so Drew continues without thinking.

“Nothing happened. I didn’t get hard and she ran out and I – ”

“Wait, wait, wait,” He suddenly realises what Stacee is saying in his gravelly, cigarettey voice. “Your honey wanted to blow you and you didn’t get _hard_?”

The way Stacee says ‘hard’ makes the hairs on the back of Drew’s neck stand up. 

“That’s ri – that’s right.” he slurs.

“Well, perhaps you should be showing her what to do.” 

He’s finding this funny, the cruel, gorgeous bastard. Drew squirms, shifting against the couch and tries to think through the wonderful fog of intoxication, of a way to reply to that that won’t make him sound monumentally stupid.

“But I don’t know how.”

Okay, so he does sound monumentally stupid. But Stacee is looking at him, with such interest now, it doesn’t really matter. He holds the older man’s cloudy green gaze for a moment, before Stacee throws his head back and roars with laughter. It would be embarrassing, but Drew is too drunk to be embarrassed about anything and so he laughs too. A little higher-pitched and nervous-sounding than that lovely, genuine, Stacee Jaxx belly laugh – but he does laugh at himself.

“God, it’s been years since I’ve looked across the green room couch at a fuckin’ _virgin_.” Stacee says, almost delightedly. Drew can’t protest. It’s true. They laugh again, laugh and laugh until Drew’s belly and cheeks ache beautifully. Stacee downs another ridiculous swig of whiskey, makes a guttural noise of satisfaction.

Maybe Drew feels something twitch, something tighten, a sweet darkness rising in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he blushes yet again and squirms again and sips again from his bottle, unable to take his eyes off Stacee Jaxx. Maybe. But he’s terrified to admit it to himself until – 

Until Stacee Jaxx looks over at him with heavy-lidded, drunken, beautiful eyes, and says,

“I could show you, if you want.”

And it hits Drew. Like a fucking train, right between his heart and his groin. _Oh god_ , he wants.

And then it all falls into place.

He gives no thought to the doubtless crowds of young and old women outside the doors, being held back by burly security. Sherrie is gone from his mind. 

Drew sighs audibly, and he thinks may have nodded. Stacee reaches across the couch cushion with the hand not holding his Jack Daniels bottle. 

And he cups Drew’s face with his warm hand, smelling of leather and sweat. 

And he sucks on Drew’s lips. First his top lip, and then his lower lip, biting gently and running his tongue across it and opening his mouth, and Drew opens his mouth too because there’s no way he can do anything else.

Stacee’s tongue licks slowly across his, wet and warm and Drew _shudders_ in delight. His hand comes up, settling in between Stacee’s shoulder blades, desperate to be closer. 

Instead of complying, Stacee’s hand slides over Drew’s hip, pulling Drew towards him. Drew hardly realises what’s happening until he’s practically in Stacee’s lap. And then Stacee breaks their kiss and looks at him, looks in his eyes. As if he’s asking if this is okay. It’s so okay. Drew is fucking trembling, full of some weird, amazing form of adrenaline, wanting, wanting wanting. 

When they kiss again, Drew whimpers into Stacee’s mouth. _This_ is it – this is what he should have been feeling when Sherrie undid his pants, but Drew has absolutely no time to think about that. Not when Stacee Jaxx’s hands are skimming the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, and oh fuck he’s shirtless, straddling Stacee Jaxx. Drew giggles softly at the alliteration. He knows there are a thousand woman and men who would gladly snap his neck to be in his place. Stacee has certainly had better, prettier, more experienced than him, and Drew has no idea what he’s done to deserve this, but he fully intends to get down on his knees every day for the rest of his life and thank God for it.

His wet mouth moves from Stacee’s momentarily, tracing his full lips across Stacee’s cheek (tastes of salt and whiskey and corruption) to moan in his ear,

“I want this so bad,”

Stacee snarls, incomprehensible, crushes their lips back together. His hands slide down Drew’s back, pulling him fiercely down and against him. The shock of his own bare chest against Stacee’s makes Drew groan, but it’s nothing compared to feeling – oh god, oh, fuck – Stacee’s rigid erection, hard and hot and throbbing through his leather pants. 

Drew almost comes then and there; has to break away and gasp for breath and grip Stacee’s forearms hard enough that it must hurt. Stacee moans softly, his hips shifting as if he wants more. He grins up at Drew, who bites his lip hard enough to leave a bruise.

“I wanna fuck you, Bourbon boy,” he whispers. “I wanna fuck you so well you don’t even remember your own name. I’m gonna hold you down and kiss you until you can’t breathe.”

Every fucking word is like a deft stroke to Drew’s cock. His hips snap back and forward desperately.

“Yeah, like that,” Stacee breathes, his hands tight on Drew’s asscheeks inside his jeans. “Look at me, Drew. I wanna see you come undone because of me.”

Drew looks down, makes himself meet Stacee’s eyes, and wonders if every time is like this. If Stacee says these words to every groupie who wants to ride his cock – oh, his _cock_ that Drew can feel the heat of right against his own – and it doesn’t matter, because Stacee Jaxx wants him like this and he wants him _now_ and Drew is dangerously close to the knife’s edge of his orgasm.

“You gonna come?” Stacee whispers heatedly, “Pretty boy? Gonna cream your jeans?”

A strangled, high-pitched moan fight’s it way from Drew’s throat and a slow smile stretches Stacee’s lips when he hears it.

“Oh, yeah…” he purrs. “Do it, baby boy. Come in your pants for me. Let me feel you, oh fuck, yeah…”

Punctuating these last words, he thrusts slowly up against Drew. And Drew feels the entire hard throbbing length of Stacee’s Jaxx’s cock against his own – fuck he’s so big, so thick, oh – and he shudders and moans and, _yes_ , comes – soaks the front of his pants and rides the high and comes back down and wants more.

“So fucking hot,” Stacee rasps out. His whiskey is abandoned, wedging itself between the couch cushions as Drew’s hips move back and forth, rubbing himself shamelessly against Stacee’s dick, whimpering, almost sobbing. Until Stacee reaches up, and his palm spreads on Drew’s back, holding him still. He tilts Drew’s chin down and kisses him again, slow and hard this time. Drew isn’t satisfied. He’s had a mind-blowing orgasm but it’s as if his body hasn’t registered it – all he wants is more. More of Stacee Jaxx, more and more and more until he’s spent and fucked out and can’t move.

“Time for these to come off.” Stacee growls, nudging Drew’s weight from him so he can lift those defined, stunning hips and slide his leather pants down his thighs. Drew shifts back, dropping to his knees to help rid this beautiful rock god of his garment. And when the damp leather has been peeled from Stacee’s ankle, Drew turns back to him and realises he’s between Stacee Jaxx’s thighs. In very close proximity to the cock that he’s just been grinding against like a lap dancer.

“Your turn.” Stacee instructs, and Drew practically springs to his feet to unbutton his jeans and shimmy them down to the floor. He’s getting hard again already. Stacee looks him up and down, nods appreciatively. “Come here.” he says, indicating Drew’s previous position, grinning again.

Drew returns to the floor, kneeling before Stacee, who cups his jaw and asks, “What do you want?”

“I want you,” Drew gasps out, and Stacee tuts.

“Too vague, beautiful,” he says, “I know you want me, everyone does – but do you want me to fuck you, blow you, rim you till you scream?”

Drew’s cock twitches almost painfully. This man – this rock god – oh, he knows how to talk dirty. Drew pouts slowly, drags his eyes from Stacee’s beautiful erection to his face.

“I wanna suck you,” he says, as sultrily as he can.

This time it’s Stacee who twitches. Drew sees it as clear as he can see the man himself. 

“You want that,” Drew whispers, trying his own hand at the dirty talk that made him come undone. “Oh – you’d like for me to suck your cock, wouldn’t you, Mr Jaxx?”

Stacee’s hand fists in Drew’s mop of curly dark hair and with the other he grasps his achingly hard cock and aims it towards Drew’s lips.

“Do it,” he growls, “Suck me, or I’ll come right now.”

As appealing as the idea of Stacee Jaxx coming right now is, Drew wants this to last. He sucks Stacee down, saliva spurting into his mouth at the taste of him. 

“Ah – ” Stacee moans, hips stuttering up into Drew’s mouth. “You done this before?”

“Uh-uhmm.” Drew hums, his lips tight around the shaft, tongue working over the head. 

“Could have fooled me…” 

Stacee’s cock presses hard, presses the back of Drew’s throat and he almost gags, fight it back and forces himself to take it. It’s all slick slide and the thrum of Stacee’s pulse against his tongue. When Drew licks the tip, he tastes salt and depravity. Stacee tastes like a god. His mouth moves up, down, again and again, and his ears are full with Stacee’s moans and sharp breaths. It hurts where Stacee’s hands are wrapped in his hair, tightening fists every time the flat of Drew’s tongue slides across the slit at the tip of his cock. It’s amazing. It makes him want more. It makes him imagine himself handcuffed to some gigantic bed, Stacee standing over him with a whip. Or being bent over Stacee’s lap, being spanked, paddled, fingered, made to whimper and beg. Fuck – Stacee has surely done something to his mind, made him think of these disgustingly wonderful gorgeous filthy things, and he wants it – wants to be depraved, as depraved as the man he’s sucking off right now. He moans around Stacee and shudders; Drew’s own cock has been trying to get hard again since he’s been on his knees for Stacee, and that thought finally makes it happen, makes him swell to full hardness.

“Oh, god – ” Stacee moans, and Drew can feel him trembling as he licks and licks over the head of his cock, sucking away the pre-come as it spills out. And then Stacee pulls him away roughly, holding a handful of his hair, looking down at him. Drew is panting, his lips feel swollen and they’re wet and his mouth still tastes like Stacee. It’ll be a long, long time before he can forget that taste.

“My pants. Left pocket.” Stacee says, breath coming in sharp pants. Drew fumbles immediately for the damp leather, finds a condom and a small bottle with red and pink graphics on it that he can’t be bothered to read because it’s obvious what’s inside and what it’s going to be used for. 

“Lie down,” Stacee instructs and it doesn’t surprise Drew that he obeys instantly, without question. He has a feeling that if Stacee said, “Now fly out the window,” he’d soar straight through the glass.

Stacee takes the bottle from him, pouring a generous amount of lube onto the fingers of his right hand; it smells like cherries. Drew bites his lip. He knows what Stacee’s going to do – of course, he’s heard Dennis and Lonny at night but this is new, this is – 

“Spread your legs.” His voice is gentle but commanding. Drew complies, draping one leg over the back of the couch, and the foot of the other flat on the floor. For a fleeting moment, he wonders why he isn’t embarrassed. And then he looks at Stacee’s face, the need in his eyes – _he needs me_. And Drew is too far gone, too spilling over with desire.

The first touch of Stacee’s clever fingers to Drew’s entrance make him arch and cry out. His head falls back against the arm of the couch, his hips buck upwards. No one’s ever touched him there – not even himself. It’s obscene and forbidden and oh god, _god_ , he wants to roll over and fucking spread his cheeks and get a tattoo of an arrow pointing to his asshole with the words ‘PLEASE STACEE JAXX’. 

This is why so many people faint when they’re near him.

This is why he is so successful.

This is why Drew is twisting and whimpering and rocking his hips. 

“Look how much you want this,” Stacee says softly. “Aren’t you gorgeous, bourbon boy.” It isn’t a question and now, because Stacee Jaxx wants him, Drew does feel gorgeous.

“Oh, please – ” he moans out, “Fuck me!”

“Not yet, pretty,” says Stacee. “Just be patient. You’re a virgin. I don’t wanna rip you to shreds.” 

He places a hand on Drew’s hip, holding him still, and slowly, slowly eases the tip of one slick finger into Drew’s ass. Drew’s eyes widen; he shouts, his hands grip the couch hard. It feels so strange, but so fucking good. When his vision clears, he can see that Stacee is stroking himself, hand wrapped around and moving on his cock. He’s still slick with Drew’s saliva, he can see it glimmering in the weak light. He can feel himself opening up sweet and easy as Stacee’s finger slips further inside him. His dick is heavy against his stomach, pre-come forming a gleaming puddle on his skin. Stacee curls his finger, just slightly, and Drew moans and watches himself twitch.

“You want more?” the older man husks. Drew nods, his eyes returning to Stacee’s hand as Stacee beats his wrist, wanking himself slow, hard.

“God, yes – please,” he says unnecessarily, unconsciously spreading his legs further apart.

“Fuck,” Stacee replies, crooking his fingers to slide a second one into Drew’s eager entrance, “You’re prettier than half the girls I have in here.”

“Oh,” Drew half moans, blushing in spite of himself, “Thank you.”

Stacee chuckles again, rolling his eyes slightly, and then he bites his lip and thrusts his fingers not-so-gently inside Drew. Stars flash in front of Drew’s vision as he screws up his face, mouth open and groaning and lifting his hips. He wants those fingers deeper, more, toes curling against the couch.

“That’s right, baby,” Stacee intones, “Another?”

“Uh-hmmm,” 

Stacee is kneeling between Drew’s legs now, one hand unashamedly jacking himself and the other fucking him so well. Drew can feel sweat on his back and thighs, the ache in his legs from keeping his ass in the air, the fucking delicious invasion of Stacee’s – three fingers now – and if he hadn’t come once already tonight he’s sure he’d be tossing off all over himself.

“Feels good?” Stacee murmurs. Drew isn’t sure if he’s asking a question of him or referring to what he’s doing to himself, so he nods anyway, unsure how long they can keep this up before one of them loses it. “I could make you come again just like this, couldn’t I, Drew? Have you fuck my hand until you’re shooting.” He leans forward, taking his hand away from his cock to support his weight, fingers still moving relentlessly inside Drew. Stacee’s body slides against his, and Drew thinks he can feel every contour of muscle in his chest. “Kiss me, Bourbon boy.” 

Helpless with desire and the need for release, Drew does.

It’s the filthiest kiss he’s ever had. Stacee’s tongue assaults his mouth, fucking it, bites on his lower lip so hard it might be bleeding, and Drew can hear himself moaning into it and Stacee sighing. He gives as good as he’s getting, he can’t help it.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” Stacee groans as he pulls away, and then his mouth slides to Drew’s neck, sucking bruises onto his skin and kissing his collarbones, down his chest. When Drew looks down, he can see the red marks all over him which will darken into hickeys later and he briefly, abstractly wonders how he’ll explain them to Sherrie –  
  
He has to fight, clenching everything below his waist so he won’t come when Stacee’s voracious mouth wraps around the head of his aching hardness.

It’s only brief, though. It’s like Stacee can read his body and knows he’s close. Another filthy laugh as Stacee pulls away, carefully sliding his fingers out and Drew can feel himself wet and open and honestly, if Stacee doesn’t fuck him soon, he’s going to cry or something. Surely it’s not supposed to be like this, the first time? Then again, the first time for most people is not with Stacee Fucking Jaxx.

“Turn over,” Stacee says, retrieving the little bottle and stroking some onto his cock, and Drew obediently gets on all fours. “Your first time, it’s easier,” he assures, placing a hand between Drew’s shoulder blades, coaxing him to arch his back with his ass in the air. Nothing seems to happen for a moment and when Drew turns his head, he can see Stacee is just looking at him - _admiring_ him. He’s kneeling there, behind Drew, with his gorgeous cock standing straight and hard and aimed, just looking at him, and Drew doesn’t know what to think, but this has to be a good thing. After a moment, he hears the crinkle of the condom packet being torn open; Stacee runs a caressing hand over Drew’s left asscheek and then it’s happening.

The tip of Stacee’s erection, blunt and hard and slick, breaches him. He moans into the couch; it hurts more than three fingers but he needs it desperately. Stacee goes slow, inch by inch, (he’s moaning softly as he slides in) and Drew bites his sore lip until he can feel Stacee’s thighs against the backs of his. 

“Hey,” Stacee whispers, moving forward again to drape himself against Drew’s back, face in his hair, lips next to his ear. _My first lover_ , Drew thinks, out of nowhere, and whimpers. “You okay, baby? Does it hurt?”

“Mmm, feels nice,” Drew whispers back, truthfully. It does hurt, and he’ll have trouble sitting comfortably tomorrow, but it’s good, too. He feels full and hot and his cock is still hard, he’s so wet, can feel pre-come pooling at the tip of his cock. Probably ruining the couch, but really, not a single fuck is given when he has Stacee Jaxx making love to him.

Stacee presses an open-mouthed wet kiss to his shoulder and murmurs something unintelligible before straightening up. He starts to rock his hips, just tiny movements deep inside Drew, getting him used to being penetrated. Drew feels himself relaxing, feels it getting easier.

“You still ready to come, honey?” Stacee breathes, and Drew can feel the potential energy in him. He can tell it’s getting hard for Stacee to hold back. He’d been ready to come riding Stacee’s fingers, but the pain has allowed him to retreat from the point of no return. It takes him a moment before he can speak, though.

“I can hold out,” he gasps, “Give it to me.”

He sucks in a breath as Stacee withdraws almost all the way, and then thrusts back in with the sexiest groan Drew has ever heard. And Stacee’s dick nudges, just barely, the sweet spot inside him (yeah, Lonny’s told him about that too). For a moment, he feels outside of himself; like he’s watching Stacee Jaxx fucking Drew Boley from somewhere on the ceiling, and he sobs in pleasure.

“Fuck, _fuck_ …” Stacee’s fingertips are digging into Drew’s hips hard enough to bruise. “You’re so tight, fucking hot, I wanna fuck you all night…”

Drew wants that too, but from the low, strained note in Stacee’s voice, he knows this is going to have to end soon. Stacee continues, moaning a filthy litany as he fucks into Drew, and Drew can feel a second orgasm building in the pit of his stomach. His cock throbs and twitches between his legs and he wants to stroke himself. He wants _everything_ , everything with Stacee Jaxx – to be fucked by him in every conceivable way, in every position, let him do fucking _anything_. Fragments of doing this again play through his brain like a very, very blue loop of film. He hears Stacee through his increasingly incoherent monologue of dirty talk, through the moans and utterances of ‘fuck, Drew’, hears him say,

“You’re gonna make me come – ”

and his lips move without his permission like they had when he’d been telling Stacee about earlier tonight. He chokes out, 

“But I wanna – ” God, it’s so _hard_ to talk when he’s being fucked _so well_ and by someone so amazing. “ – wanna ride you…”

“Hell yeah,” Stacee growls and stops, although it seems to take every bit of his self-control. There’s a fumbling, awkward moment where Drew has to move off all fours and off the couch, but he barely notices because Stacee Jaxx is lying bare-ass naked in the middle of it. Naked, and covered in a sheen of sweat with his slick, hard cock heavy against his stomach. Drew straddles him, one hand gripping the back of the couch, and he can smell Stacee’s hair – salt and booze and some wonderful unwashed human smell that is just Stacee. Stacee holds him by the hip, takes hold of his cock and slides the tip up and down between Drew’s ass cheeks, teasing him.

When Stacee finally thrusts up into him, Drew feels like his life’s just been saved. Stacee grabs hold of his hand, the one that isn’t on the back of the couch, threading their fingers together. His other arm slides around Drew’s hips, his palm possessively spread in the small of Drew’s back. Drew trembles, and not entirely because Stacee is inside him again. These unexpected affectionate gestures are going to undo him. He holds Stacee’s hand softly, looks down into his eyes and starts to move.

“Oh yeah, just like that, baby,” Stacee moans, “Ride my dick. I want you to come all over me.”

Drew whimpers, trembles. It feels good this way, in control of how hard and fast he’s going. Slowly at first, feeling himself clench around Stacee’s dick as he moves up, thighs shaking, and slides easily back down so he’s sitting on Stacee’s thighs. After a few moments, Stacee begins to thrust again, his hips twitching up every time Drew moves down. He can hear the sound of skin on skin, arches his back, and when Stacee hits his sweet spot again he squeezes the older man’s hand and moans his name loud enough to arouse the suspicion of anyone loitering outside the door.

“Ah, _fuck_!” Stacee gasps, “Want you so fucking bad, Drew, you’re so fucking hot, gonna come in your ass, want you to scream my name – ”

And suddenly, his hand is around Drew’s cock, thumb slip-sliding across the head and spreading the pearl of pre-come forming there. 

“ _Stacee_ ,” Drew cries, his hips now snapping up and down harder, taking Stacee deeper. It hurts, it’s so fucking good. “Fuck me, _fuck me_ …” The need for release has taken away all his shame, he could say so many filthier things, but Stacee’s hand is moving faster on him, unashamedly jerking him off and groaning,

“I’m gonna come in you, Bourbon boy. You ready?”

Oh god, Drew is ready. He’s so ready.

“Yes, please, I’m ready – do it…” 

“Come all over me, fuck, yes – _now_...”

Drew is lost, crying out as he continues to ride Stacee – his face flushes, his back arches, eyes slip closed, sweat stands out on his forehead and snarls his hair. His cock jerks in Stacee’s grip, spilling come over Stacee’s hand and down his wrist, pooling on his stomach. And he feels Stacee twitch inside him, hears him moaning and thinks, there’s nothing like this. Nothing. I would give up anything in my life to do this again.

It takes him a moment to come back to himself.

“That was really your first time?” Stacee asks, pulling him down to lie across his chest. 

“Mhm,” Drew admits, inhaling the scent of Stacee’s chest and neck.

“You’re dynamite, baby.” 

Drew smiles against Stacee’s skin.

“For serious. Most of the groupies I get in here just lie there and cry, or they try too hard. But you. You’re incredible. God, I’ve just come in your gorgeous little ass and I already want you again. As soon as you can take it.”

Drew’s blushing, feeling the same. The minute he’s ready to get hard again, he will at Stacee’s command.

“You’re not going to fuck off now, are you?” Stacee asks, “You’re not gonna go out there and tell every asshole you serve that Stacee Jaxx fucked you in the ass, right?”

Drew shakes his head. He couldn’t do what Stacee is saying. Rather, he’d want to be Stacee’s sex slave, in chains at the back of his tour bus ready for Stacee to come and use whenever he needs to come. But he won’t say that in so many words, of course.

“Never,” he whispers, lifting his head to press a kiss to Stacee’s neck. “I’ll be yours. For as long as you want me. I’ll do anything, and you can to anything to me.”

“Anything?” Stacee asks, drawing out the word, and Drew nods. “Well, this is going to be an interesting relationship.” He kisses the top of Drew’s head, kisses the sweaty curls. “I’m gonna show you every single way a man can love another man.”

And Drew grins ridiculously, burying his face where Stacee’s neck meets his shoulder, and shudders in anticipation of what that means.


End file.
